-`~-`~-`~-`~


What's left of the earth by railroad stakes
I cling for healing
spider baby on a grass-point
my spine to groaning trees
watch watching the water
rain palace I entered
a butterfly knife in the basement
ribs open to flower
I fell through my grandmother's television
her solitaire laid out on coffeetable

Someday I'll come off the chemical leash
and even the propane-soaked moss
will bed me down to savor
the crunch of an indian cucumber
white root in the tongue-mouth
and mint of dark chucker berry
a fern-coat enduring whispers

luna moth on the center of ancient forehead
beaming to the lake-bed
beaming to the town's fountain core
the edges of a ditch adorned
with sugar of blueberry
who'll take my hand, a waif
in a riot of acorns.


-`~-`~-`~-`~